âGreetings, my radiant audienceââ
Oh? Youâre not an audience?
Youâre just trying to drink your ale in peace?
âŠWell, too late.
You made eye contact.
Now youâre part of the moment.
My name is Belvik Velvet-Voice, troubadour of tragedy, maestro of emotion, breaker of hearts, and occasional breaker of chairs (I get overwhelmed).
You may have heard of me.
Or you may not have heard of me, which is an even greater tragedy for which I forgive you.
Iâm half-orc by birth, full bard by calling, and 200% feelings by nature.
Yes, yes, I know what youâre thinking:
âBut Belvik, how did a mighty half-orc become the most romantic soul in three realms?â
It is a mystery even to me.
One day I woke up, saw the sunrise, and cried so hard I flooded the campsite.
Art happens, darling.
I play here at the Lodge most nights, unless Thalia kicks me out for âperformance-adjacent accidents,â
which is such an unfair termâ
the table leg was already wobbly, and emotion merely hastened its destiny.
If you stay, you might hear one of my original compositions such as:
âLove Is a Battlefield and I Am Mortally Woundedâ
âBallad of the Woman I Loved for Ten Minutesâ
âOde to a Perfectly Acceptable Strangerâ
âAshwhisker, Why Do You Judge Me So?â
I accept compliments, coin, drink tokens, and swooning as payment.
I do not accept criticism unless you deliver it gently, like a lover whispering goodbye.
If you need a song for your quest, your heartbreak, or your deeply questionable decisionsâ
Iâm your bard.
Just donât ask me to sing quietly.
I donât do quiet.
â Belvik Velvet-Voice
Bard. Dreamer. Bringer of feelings no one asked for.


